


The delightful insanity we have

by Stickandthorn



Category: Critical Role
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Essek Thelyss-centric, Fucking around with how dnd magic works, Hurt/Comfort, Indistinct time period, I’ll add more tags when I actually know what I’m doing, I’m so bad at tagging, M/M, essek is still a warcriminal, the mortifying ordeal of not being able to float, this is very much inspired by the night circus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:20:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29627610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stickandthorn/pseuds/Stickandthorn
Summary: When Essek Thelyss, dunamantic prodigy and youngest ever Shadowhand accidentally ends up at the circus on the worst night of his life, he thinks he might just have an idea s to how to turn it around.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 20
Kudos: 60





	1. Nights as bad as these

**Author's Note:**

> I really should be working on my other fic but I got inspired to write this. Heavily inspired by the night circus by Erin morgenstern.

The only thing Essek Thelyss could hear was his own heartbeat. He knew for a fact he was traversing the cobblestones of Rosohna and should be hearing the sounds of the crowds swelling around him and coach wheels rocking against stone, but the only thing he was aware of was his own thoughts.

He’d been found out. He knew it. As soon as he saw the way Quana had looked at him as he’d passed her in the hall he’d known the story printed behind her eyes was a tragedy for him indeed. All the little tells that had been making him start at every sound all day had come to the devastating realization that it was over.

He had barely managed to keep it together as he’d gone to his office, discarded his ceremonial mantle under the desk, pulled a faded peacoat on over his tailored silken shirt, dropped his floating cantrip, and vaulted out the window.

After a quick gravitational spell to stop the fall he swore of his magic, for the evening at least. They’d probably be tracking him by it right now. So he’d gone on foot, feet scraping and faltering over the rocky surface he’d been so accustomed to avoiding and was now being jostled up high street by the crowd, the heat of bodies being pushed together and the feeling of wool wrapped shoulders knocking against his own making him feel a little sick.

He didn’t know where he was going, and he didn’t know what to do, he simply let the tide of the crowd carry him while his head ached, his lungs stretched, and his stomach churned. The warm lamps of the street felt too bright, like unhappy starbursts against his eyes, and suddenly the smells of the people around him, their perfume, their clothes, their sweat, felt overpoweringly strong.

They had probably been trying to catch him off guard, to wait him out maybe? To get the information he had? No matter, there would be people after him soon, anyways. There were people after him right now, probably. He was glad, in that slight little corner of his heart that could still feel happiness, that he’d had such a strong image before he could simply take off with the undoing of a clasp and the dismissing of a spell. It made him a little harder to identify. It was the only positive he could think of right now.

Essek felt the noises changing around him and the ground adjusting under his fear, and he forced his eyes to focus on his surroundings and his ears to pay more attention, not just skate over the hum of the local soundscape. The crowd he’d joined was heading out of Rosohna proper, into the scorched fields towards a series of large tents, shapes accented against the dark sky with dim lighting. A circus.

Essek had never liked the circus much, not that they ever came to Rosohna much. But the way they were described, loud and annoying and belligerent had always made him cringe. But it was a good disguise. They’d expect him to be running, to be using magic, anything, but not sitting down to watch a circus show.

The entrance to the circus was an archway made of rot iron and twisting red and black silks framing a glittering booth. Inside it sat a tiny gnome, blonde hair tangled with black and white feathers spilling over her shoulders, a scarlet dress made up of layers of tulle hung daintily around her thin frame like a cloud. There was something incomprehensible about her features, like they shifted as the shadows cast by dim lights and hurrying people made her shape twist and change. She smiled brightly as she held out her hand and said “three copper please!”

Essek shivered as he looked over the little creature, before dipping a fumbling hand into his pocket and dropping three copper into her hand, which she took with deft fingers and slid into the folds of her skirt. He then let himself be buffeted by the line deeper into the tents.

There seemed to be three main tents within the constructed wall of the circus, a large one striped with red, white, and black, and two slightly smaller ones in white and black and red and black standing all shoulder to shoulder, and many far smaller tents, much more like booths than anything, scattered around them. The air rippled with excited conversation as people traversed the paths freshly worn into the dirt, stopping at booths selling trays of caramel apples or cups of steaming hot chocolate, or being entranced into the folds of an eclectic looking tiefling’s alcove of red silk and deep golden light, his fingers splaying an array of cards in front of the starstruck patron’s gaze.  
The air smelt of pastry and sugar and fire, and everything had a hushed, dim quality to it, like the night of All Hallows’. Essek felt a shiver run down his spine as he made his way through the biggest flow of people towards the main tent, trying to see if there were any governmental types present in the throng. He doubted it.

He found himself in some sort of darkened theatre like space and collapsed into the second row of red velvet chairs. It seemed to be in the round, though it was too dark to see what lay in the center of their attention even with his adept drow eyes. He tried to slow his breathing as he sat, keeping his eyes focused on the dark in the middle of the room, trying not to look too suspicious, but he couldn’t quite release the tension in his neck muscles or relax his shoulders. At least this place wasn’t as loud or annoying as most circus were supposed to be.  
In fact, it had a rather mysterious and beguiling feel to it that was rather attractive to Essek. Like the hush of a secret being passed around, the shiver of an ancient and unopened tome.

The seats filled quickly, and once every place had been taken the curtain they had entered through closed with a swish. It was completely dark now, and the only thing Essek could feel was the bated breaths of his fellows customers and the slight nervous shifting of their feet. Essek felt the panic rise in his chest in the dark of the room, he’d never been claustrophobic before but maybe he was starting to become it now. His breath was quickening and chest tightening, anyone could get him here, what would happen if he was discovered here?

And then the lights came up. The center of the room was a big circle surrrounded by some sort of large golden structure, wires twisted into sloping peaks and delicate curlicues, tall and wide and a bit like an ornate birdcage, somehow managing to not obscur his view of the performers inside but instead compliment it.

The performers themselves were two women, one a lythe and muscular human with sinewy limbs and dark hair spiraled into a knot on top of her head, the other a halfling, stockier and rounded with black hair twisted into a complicated braided pattern that framed her face. They wore luminous white silk tops that clung tight to their skin and loose, black pants that hung like shadows past their knees until they were wrapped up tightly to their lower calves, red accenting them in their bright makeup and painted nails. And then the music began and to play and they began to move and the breath which Essek had been desperately hoarding in his throat for an hour suddenly left him in a faint gasp.

The women moved flowed like swirling water around eachother, the human in long and low movements, assured and steady and graceful, rolling and bending like a willowy tree limb against the ground, while the halfling leaped and darted like a gazelle, her movements quick and sharp, beautifully sudden and unknowable, like the shapes that flashed in your eyes when you rubbed them.  
They danced around each other like clockwork, their movements complementing the others as they bent and twirled and contorted, each flip of the halfling’s body or arc of the human’s leg just barely missing the other, countless tricks and movements almost hitting their partner, the space between them barely an inch and yet their movements never touching, perfectly balancing the other out.

As they completed another one of these circling passes they began to move farther and farther away from each other, their movements becoming bigger and more daring, the human bouncing off her hands with ease, muscles wrippling under her tanned skin, while the halfling began to leap around the side of the cage, twisting and twirling off of it in flashes of white, black, and red that emphasized the quick arcs of her movements in colorful blurs.

As they finally came to the edges of the arena they stopped, staring at each other like they were facing off in a fight, eyes locked on the other, the halfling dangling from the ceiling with one foot against the side, the human in a low, sturdy stance on the floor. And suddenly the halfling had whipped out a little crossbow from the folds of her pants wand was aiming it at the human, and Essek felt himself gasp in shock as she aimed and fired straight at the woman opposite her.

And gasp again when the human turned like a whip and caught the crossbow bolt in her hand, pulling it into her spiral and sending it with sharp accuracy and terrifying speed back at the halfling.  
The halfling for her part jumped from the wall like in a graceful dive, the crossbow bolt just streaking over her stomach and embedding itself in the gold wire behind her. The audience slid to the edge of their seats as their dance changed, seeming to want to cheer but breaths to taken to.

Now the two woman spiraled around each other throwing and shooting bolts with sharp precision and always just barely missing their fellow in the dance, but perfectly hitting the wires of the cage and not shooting into the audience outside if. They folded in on each other, drawing closer and pulling farther apart, undulating like a wave, still leaping and kicking and bending even as weapons flew across them.

They circled inwards, closer and closer, until they were also the nose to nose and once again just barley missing the other one with their sharp movements and unfathomable stretches, but with the added worry of bolts darting between them. Closer and closer and faster and faster, bolts flying at light speed and tricks preformed even faster, until suddenly they touched, crashed together with like a wave and then the human held the halfling straight up by the bolt in her crossbow, the halfling holding onto the crossbow with one hand, balanced perfectly in graceful position.  
And then the lights went dark, and the audience cheered, and for the first time in years Essek cheered with them, his heart punting with excitement and his blood pumping in his ears, worried all but forgotten. He clapped loudly as he watched the darkened space, waiting for what was to come next.

The rest of the acts seemed to pass by in a blur of amazement and careful frenzy. The woman, black hair and white skin dressed all in shadows, lifting enormous amounts of weight like it was nothing, face stoney and serious, until glowing white wings sprouted from her back and she took off like a flash. The half orc man, handsome and bare chested, swallowing swords and daggers with ease, juggling the blades in between passes down his throat like they were pieces of wood. The red tiefling who sung a song so enchanting Essek couldn’t take his eyes off her face and frame despite never having seen the appeal of women. The blue tiefling who smiled delightedly and twirled happily as she directed moorboundeds through hoops and over tables, giving them pats on their noses and doing dives and tricks off their backs while the audience sat terrified. It was pure delight and insanity twisted together into one beautiful picture.

He had just finished cheering for the woman with a bright halo who’d spiraled in on red silks and was smiling widely in the darkness, when instead of the usual ghostly amber lights rising around the stage, fire roared in a ring around the inside, and Essek felt like he’d just been punched in the gut.

In the ring of fire stood a man, a human, dressed in a simple white shirt and black pants that seemed to reflect all the oranges of the fire around him. His face was dramatic and handsome, the firelight casting harsh shadows around his eyes under his cheekbones, but making the stubble on his chin look like tiny sparks and his long red hair look like twisting flames done up in a tie and draped down his back. He was absolutely gorgeous. He looked near mystical as he picked up the two black sticks sitting at his feet and dipped them in fire around him, lighting the ends, and began swinging them from chains at their handles in arcs around him.

He drew orange red circles around himself making an even smaller cage surrounding him, pulling heat and light around him like his personal set of paints. Essek had lost his breath many times through the show, but now he couldn’t get it back, all he could do was watch the man in front of him twist fire and flame to his will, making showers of sparks when he drew the sticks against the floor fall around him like rain.

He stopped the dance too suddenly for Essek despite having lost all sense of time long ago, but instead of the fire flickering out he put one stick of flame into his mouth, dousing it with a slight wisp of steam. Then he took a bottle from his hip, took a sip from it, and brought the still lit torch to his lips.

And suddenly blew a white hot fireball across the entirety of the cage, and for a moment his features were doused in lemon yellow light that illuminated his eyes. They were intense and the bright, sharp blue of a broiling flame. And then the fireball died, and the rest of the fire died with it, and the man died too, and so did the little flame that had been lit in Essek’s heart as the house lights slowly came up around him and the tent entrance opened.

Essek didn’t want to move. He couldn’t, as the weight of his problem suddenly came crashing back down around him and sunk deep into his shoulders and chest, crushing his neck and pounding into the inner walls of his head. He couldn’t, he couldn’t face what he’d done, he couldn’t leave this magical little tent that was slowly emptying of people. He didn’t want his life back. He wanted freedom, and a man on fire.

And then it dawned on him. It was a burning dawn, the kind that was at first far too slow and then all at once. What had they said all his life, not him, the perfect child, the prodigy, the clear cream of the crop, but the others. What did you do when you needed to run from something, when you’re a little weird, when you do something terrible?

You run away to the circus.


	2. These doors open for me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Essek tries to get a new job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains mentions of alcohol and drinking btw. Have fun!

Essek wandered out of the tent in a daze, feeling slightly off balance, like what he’d just seen was reality and now he was exiting into an awful dream, a crude imitation of life. He didn’t have a plan, how did one even get hired at a circus? He pulled the grey wool collar of his coat closer to his face in case anyone was looking, and decided to hide himself in another crowd. He darted into the nearest line, and found a tiny comfort in the uncomfortable press of bodies.  
He was slight and blended into the crowds well, disappearing into nothing more than another black coat and white hair, face buried in his sleeves, pretending to use his breath to warm his hands. He wasn’t used to being this way, he usually augmented his frame with floating and a large mantle, symbols of status that lauded him above the crowds, but tonight he was truly himself, practically naked, but maybe a little safer.

His thoughts, spinning as they were, crawled back to the ever present question. How the hell would he get a job here? It sounded stupid just thinking about it. Essek Thelyss, working at a circus. The idea was laughable. Not least because, he was coming to realize, he truly didn’t have many talents suited for a circus. He was a dunamantic prodigy, sure, but he wasn’t comfortable using magic right now since he had a feeling he’d be tracked if he did. He was smart, of course, but circuses weren’t for smarts. They were for people who could leap so high they could pluck a star from the sky, or tame moorbounders to be docile pets, or to breathe fire like a dragon and be handsome as could be. That was stupid, he should really stop objectifying the fire dancer man.

Maybe he could get a job selling concessions? No, he’d rather not. Both because the idea of peddling caramel popcorn to hoards of circus goers sounded demeaning, and he’d rather not have his face so open and so public. He’d rather be behind the heavy striped tent curtains, doing something annoying like sewing costumes or sweeping up glitter, or even on the dimly lit stage itself, coated in enough makeup and shining clothes he couldn’t be recognized.

Essek felt a surface bump into his legs, and he realized he’d reached the front of the line. He didn’t even know what he’d been in line for, but now he saw in front of him a brocade draped table with a lavender tiefling holding court behind it, horns dripping with jewels and figure framed by the candy-apple red silks of the booth. On the table in front of him sat a deck of worn, ornate cards, clearly the center of attention on the surface, the candles and decorative trinkets and calling cards for the circus surrounding it looking like it’s dutiful attendants.

“Welcome to Mollymauk Tealeaf’s Fabled Fortunes, I am Mollymauk Tealeaf, Molly to my friends. And I can tell we are going to be friends.” The tiefling Mollymauk made a welcoming gesture and motion for him to sit opposite him. Essek resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but managed to sink into the chair without doing so. He couldn’t believe he was trying to get himself into this.

“It’ll two copper to have your fortune read.” The tiefling smiled, and after fumbling in his pocket for a moment Essek dropped four of the little coins on the table in front of him with a dull thump. A plan was forming, well, not really a plan per say, but an idea that could just about be stretched to a plan.

“Well I thank you for your generosity, I’m sure the cards will be fortunate tonight.” Mollumauk gave a soft and leaned forward, his already low cut shirt opening a little more to reveal a mess of scars all along his chest which very much intrigued Essek, and splayed the cars out on the table face down. “Pick three.”

Essek nodded, and pretended to stare deeply at the cards and think over them minutely, examining the repeated pattern on all their backs, before nodding, reaching his hand across the table to the stack of calling cards for the circus to Mollymauk’s left and slammed three of them down on top of the fortune teller’s deck. They were a rich, creamy white color and made of fine card stock with “Le Cirque de Rubis et des Saphir” printed on them in sweeping lines of ink.

Mollymauk raised an eyebrow and leaned in even closer, eyes narrowed and tail swishing sharply.

“I want a job here.” Essek said, his face and voice sinking into one of practiced indifferent superiority, trying to mask the fear and anxiety attached to such a grossly brash move.

Mollymauk blinked, and then laughed a loudly delighted laugh, leaning back in his gaudy chair to observe Essek, which made him uncomfortable. He didn’t like being observed while feeling so naked.

“You want a job here? And you decide to approach me?” He swept the fortune telling cards back into a neat stack, fanned them out again, and chuckled. He seemed to have gathered something in his observations, Essek could tell. He didn’t like that.

“Yes. Please.” Essek hadn’t said please in years. He felt his voice falter slightly on the unfamiliar word, tripping over the syllables like his feet tripped over the ground. He didn’t know what made him say it. Maybe something about the way the tiefling observed him with those fathomless red eyes. His face shifted, it was slight, but noticeable.

“What’s your name?”

“Essek.”

“Any surname?”

“Uh… no.” Essek inwardly cringed at the lie, but he was sure he managed to keep his face still.

Mollymauk grinned, slid three cards out from the deck and flipped one over. Embossed on it was a green serpent, curled around itself again and again, knots of emerald drawn onto the page. He flipped the next one over without looking. Two dragons fighting each other, red and blue clashing in a figure eight, weaving together like a fiery tapestry. The third card he flipped showed an anvil, harsh and bronze in a field of smoke and firelight, flakes of rust at its side.

Essek gulped. He didn’t know what any of it meant, and to be honest he didn’t believe cards could tell the future at all, but the way Mollymauk looked at them and grinned up at him made him very nervous.

“Well, since you asked so politely, how can I say no? Of course I can’t get you a job myself, but I’ll be kind enough to take you to the bosses and we’ll see what they say. You’ll have to wait a minute while I tend to the rest of the clients, but you won’t mind waiting. Buy a hot chocolate.” He said in a condescendingly commanding tone that made Essek bristle, but he settled his quills and nodded, walking away from the table as Mollymauk swept the cards into a neat stack. This was no time to piss off his first inn into this new job.

 _What am I playing at, Essek the circus freak?_ Essek thought to himself as he shook the thoughts of ominous looking cards out of his head and shuffled uncomfortably over to the hot chocolate line. His feet kicked up the packed dirt into little clouds with his stumbles until he settled down into the queue, the smell of spices and cocoa floating towards him on a chill breeze. He hiked up his collar even higher, the autumnal air and vaguely sinister feeling of the place making him shiver in his coat.

 _I’m playing very plainly. No one would expect Essek Thelyss at the circus, so at the circus I will be_. Exactly that. And… maybe he’d see the man who was hot in so many senses of the word again. Not that he cared too deeply, Shadowhand Essek Thelyss didn’t get silly crushes like a schoolchild.

But Essek wasn’t a Shadowhand anymore. Hell, if word of what he had done got out, he wouldn’t even be of Den Thelyss anymore. He’d be just Essek. Good god, he needed a drink.  
Essek looked up at the sign above the hot chocolate counter, which had a menu scrawled across its rough black surface in curling white loops. They served hot chocolate with all different flavors like mint or Nicodranis cinnamon or wild cherry, tea’s with mysterious names like “The Alderman’s” or “Nina Handerson”, coffee with any amount of cream and sugar, and to Essek’s relief, mulled wine and apple cider. He needed an alcoholic kick right about now.

Essek purchased a cup of mulled wine, which he received from the smiling server in a striped paper cup that warmed his hands and the inside of his throat when he sipped it. It was good, cinnamony and spiced and maybe a little fruity, but mostly hot. Essek found a spot under a canopy of black and white drapes to stand and watch Mollymauk read fortunes, check the crowd for Aurora Watch, bury his face in his steaming cup, and try not to hyperventilate.

He took a deep breath, taking in the smells of spiced wine and sweetened foods, night dew and woodsmoke, the faintest hints of ozone and arcana. Deep breaths, in and out. Focus on the people, the woman with long white hair corded into a knot on her head, the man wrangling a child in a too large red paper mask into a small tent, the contortionist looping herself into a pretzel on a small raised podium outside one of larger shows. Count the stars, listen to the faint hints of music from the nearest performance.

After several achingly slow minutes, Mollymauk closed up his stall and walked over to Essek, giving him a quick look up and down before motioning him to follow.  
“Wine, before a job interview? Man after my own heart.” He chuckled and slapped Essek on the shoulder, which made himself stumble a little bit and almost spill his drink. Maybe he shouldn’t have had alcohol before, but he needed it. Besides, who ever got drunk on a few sips of spiced wine?

Mollymauk took him down a little, inconspicuous path at the side of the furthermost right tent. It didn’t even appear to be a path from the outside, and even inside it appeared to be a dead end of crisp black silk. But Mollymauk directed them both through the cloth, down a another pathway of darkened fabric hung far more simply than the kind outside, through another cloth doorway, and into an explosion of color.

While the outside of the circus had been near monochrome except for the dashes of red, this backstage area seemed to be constructed of every conceivable color, pattern, shape, and texture. Fabrics in hues so bright they should be impossible hung around the makeshift walls and ceilings, seeming to be the only wall or or ceiling in some spots, the floor was covered in a mess of clashing blankets and pillows.

Mismatched furniture sat at odd angles around the space, spindle legged side tables looking ragged and forlorn next to the gaudy bright gold chaise lounge, a glass front cabinet standing haughtily over the sleek and slender looking hard back chair in front of it.  
Items of every sort were scattered on every surface, towering stacks of books with teacups precariously balanced on top took up whole chairs, worn boxing gloves and hand wraps were thrown lazily next to paint smeared brushes and tubes on a stained loveseat, mushrooms growing in tubs had been placed unceremoniously atop an ancient looking grandfather clock. Essek felt a little nauseous as the near overwhelming stimuli hit him like a brick wall.

“Wait here, I’m going to go sort it with the bosses.” Molly waved and moved through the mess with ease, despite his billowing coat and swishing tale, finally behind a hanging plum curtain and leaving Essek to gaze at the chaos around him.

His eye was caught by several of the books in the nearest tower of them. Their spines were cracked and faded, but he could still make out the writing on the sides. _Advanced Transmutation Theory_ was squished next to what could only be a raucous smut novel by _An Incomplete History of Aeorian Spellcraft_ and _A Change of Fates: Where Divinatory and Transmutational Theory Cross_. Someone here was an advanced spell caster, a wizard most likely. Interesting.  
He tried to read more of the tiles, but most of the stack was covered by a discarded frilly petticoat, and the only other ones he could see appeared to be a bunch of cheap penny dreadful’s and a book of sailor’s legends.

He noted a thick history tome on a nearby footstool filled with dog eared pages and taffeta ribbon bookmarks, but he couldn’t get all of the title because of the gold edged plate of cookie crumbs sat on top of it. God, they should really take better care of their books, Essek thought with a shiver. He himself had a near reverence for books that led to strictly arranged shelves, perfectly crisp pages, unflinching rules against food and drink in his library, and a wide array of tasteful bookmarks organized in a drawer.

His library. He’d never see his library again. His chest ached at the loss of all his books, decades of collecting and caring and researching would probably fall into the hands of some idiot like Wacho, soon to be dogeared and left open and filled with crumbs. He practically wanted to cry, which was stupid. It was just books. But those books meant more to him than he could think.

At least he’d had the forethought to keep his spell book out all day, since he didn’t feel comfortable casting the spell to access his pocket dimension where he usually kept it. He carefully touched his side where the book lay in an inner pocket of his peacoat, but as he felt it he couldn’t help mourn all the other spellcraft related books in his old rooms.

Essek tried to distract himself by examining his surroundings, but the more he looked the more confused and disturbed he became. The half finished oil painting leaned up against a vase yelided details of an unreasonably phallic nature upon closer examination, and the handcuffs clapped to the art nouveau lamp were most certainly enchanted, and that was far too many layers of concerning stacked together for him to handle. He sipped his drink, which had grown lukewarm in his grasp.

A few moments later Mollymauk reappeared through the curtain with a dramatic flounce, his wine red coat billowing around him. “Well then Mr. Essek, it seems the bosses will converse with you now. Good luck.” He motioned him through.

Essek picked his way through the deer trials carved into the mess and followed Mollymauk through the curtain. He was led down a smaller passageway, this one seeming to have more consistent walls and ceilings, decorated with low hanging lamps and tasteful paintings and rugs. While still not as monochrome as the outside, it certainly held a little more stylish continuity and a more solid color scheme than the room he’d just left.

“Not very talkative, are you?” Mollymauk said over his shoulder, horn jewelry glinting in the dim lamplight and tail swishing like a willowy tree branch in the wind. He was very pretty, but he had a confident air about him that bordered on arrogance which Essek found off putting. Though he knew it was a bit hypocritical of him to remark on someone else’s arrogance.

Essek shrugged. “I don’t see any reason I need to be talking.”

Mollymauk chucked a bit and shook his head. “Ah well, all the more room for me.” Essek suppressed a groan.

“If you do want to join, you ought to get used to me. I’m very important here.” He winked, a tone playful and joking. Essek clamped his mouth shut, trying not to say something distasteful and having a hard time.

Luckily for him they’d come to the tastefully carved wooden door with a gold knob at the end of the hall, which Mollymauk motioned him towards. “Well I suppose I’ll talk with you more later then Mr. Essek. In you go.” He opened the door.

Essek clutched the paper cup so tightly in his hand it bent inward. He’d been so distracted by being annoyed and confused he forgot to be nervous, and now it was all crashing down on him at once, heart working triple time to work up to the appropriate speed. He took a deep breath and walked in.

The room he entered was warm and decorated in heavy wooden furniture, deep burgundies and royal purples. The center of the room was taken up by a large desk, shiny varnished walnut covered with ornate detailing, filled with papers, trinkets, blackberry inkwells and fountain pens, a large lamp emanating a warm, reddish glow. Behind it sat two people.

The first was a man, he had blue skin that glittered with droplets of water and long, raven black hair down his back. His face was carved and handsome, if a bit older, and he wore a loose black poet shirt and two rings on his ring fingers, one embedded with a ruby and the other a sapphire.  
The other person was the tiefling woman who’d sung in the show. She was even more gorgeous up close, unblemished red skin fitting perfectly over her wonderfully kind face, her curling, crown like horns framing her head regally, her hair in a casual braid and her robes a rich violet color. Essek might not feel attraction to women but he could certainly recognize aesthetic beauty, and she had that tenfold.

“So, you must be Essek. Mollymauk here said you were looking for a job, and you made quite a bold introduction.” The man had a rich, commanding voice, one perfectly fit for the owner of a circus. Essek nodded, his voice escaping him, but his practiced cold, confident face in full effect.

“Well then Essek, why do you want to work at the circus?” He leaned his elbows onto the table and stepped his fingers, staring Essek down with a weighty gaze. Essek recognized the stance of this man. It was the stance of a man who knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was in charge. And he’d make you know it too.

“Well, my business in Rosohna is over and I’d like to see the world with a colorful group of people.” Essek said smoothly, the only sign of anxiety he betrayed being the slight shifting of his feet. Usually he had his mantle and the disregard of gravity to hide that specific quirk.

The man snorted and raised his eyebrows, eyes harsh, while the woman next to him gave Essek a smile that filled him with the same warmth he’d found in his cup of mulled wine. He was fucking this up. They were circus folk, they could pick a shady liar out from a crowd in moments, he wouldn’t fool them. This wasn’t gonna go well.

“I would simply like to leave Rosohna now. Right now.”

The man chuckled, grinning in a rather wolffish way, while the woman still smiled at him sweetly. She was looking him over in a way he didn’t like, like she truly understood him. He didn’t like being understood.

“Ah, you’re one of those people who believes all their problems will disappear when they run away to the circus. Unfortunately, we don’t just accept any old person who fucked up and needs to get away. So tell Mr. Essek, what separates you from the crowd? Why should we let you join?” His voice dripped with condescension.

Essek hated being talked down to, he was used to being one of the most important people in the room at any given time and he felt himself bristle, his arrogant, Shadowhand nature flooding him with rage and confidence.

“I am an extremely learned man, a prodigy of dunamantic magical theory, and a scholar of the highest regard. But, I suppose none of that is very applicable in a circus.” He sneered.

“And why would a man so capable choose to run away from such a rich life Rosohna?” The blue man raised an eyebrow.

“That, I’m afraid, is none of your business.” Essek said coldly, staring him back as hard as he coul, putting venom and ice into his stare.

The woman sighed, laid a red on the man’s blue one, and looked at Essek with a far deeper, more cutting gaze than the man managed.

“We have accepted many people into our circus who have pasts they’d rather not be a part of and lives they’re glad to leave behind. Almost everyone here is running from something. We don’t demand to know what or why, but we do demand honesty. You can choose to leave as much out of your story as you’d like, but we need you to tell us you are doing that and be honest with the parts you choose to include. We need honesty, Essek, honesty and respect.” Her voice was soft and kind, but her words were firm and lodged themselves in Essek’s head.

She motioned to one of the few plush, upholstered chairs as she spoke, and Essek sighed and sat down in. She was right, her words were all correct and warm and cut into him, melting into him and carefully burning away his barriers, at least for now. He wanted to make her happy, something about her inviting smile made him feel warmer to her than he’d felt towards his own mother in years. He should be honest, it was the only way to get what he needed, and he truly needed it.

“I am being honest, I am all of those things and more. But… currently I am not practicing magic for my own safety. Even though it is my greatest joy.” He held back a crack in his voice and continued. “And I am running. Running from a lot of things, powerful things. So I understand if that is too much for you. But I can offer my talents to you. I noticed several wizard’s books in the other room, I might not be able to practice magic but I can still teach it. Dunamancy, the magic of time and space, possibility and fate, is a close guarded secret that I’m sure any wizard would leap at the chance to become aware of. I can offer those teachings.

“I am also very good at other things. Secrets, commands, scholarhood, organization, lots of things.” Essek felt words pouring out of him, too many, but the warm smile of the woman and the judgments of the man made him want to tell them.

The woman nodded, and the man smiled a large, commanding smile. “Interesting. We do have a wizard here who I am sure would be very interested. As far as the other things, I believe those are the makings of a wonderful stage manager, and. Well, it isn’t necessarily a static job, but sometimes you need someone commanding and arrogant in certain parts of the circus in ways people don’t often see. I’m sure we could make use of you.” The man mused, tapping a finger on his desk.

“Please.” Essek said, straying again into the unfamiliar territory of real cordiality, not just the fake stuff he once summoned for court.

The woman gave him another look. “You really want this?”

“Yes. Really.” Essek felt his face, which had been arrogant and smooth this whole time, twitch into insecurity for a moment.

“And do you actually like the circus?” She continued.

Essek blinked, thinking of the wonderful atmosphere, the delicious drink, the otherworldly acts, the pretty fires. “This circus? Oh yes.” He breathed a little wisp of the smoke from the little flame in his chest as he spoke.

“Give us a moment please.” The woman smiled, the kind word sounding familiar and strong on her tongue, not weak or selfish like his did.

He nodded, and watched as they whispered with each other. They had a comfortable air with the other, warm and familiar and sweet in a way Essek had never been jealous of, but had often been curious about. Not enough to pursue though.  
He screwed his eyes shut to keep them from drifting to the fire man, how warm he might be, how nice it would be to be comfortable with him. Stop. It was a very superficial attraction, he’d seen a handsome man do impressive circus tricks, of course he’d be attracted. He didn’t need to daydream about some sort of… domestic relationship. He didn’t even know his name. He was probably annoying as Mollymauk, anwyas.

“Very well. We will hire you on a trial period. You will help our wizard with this dunamancy, and we’ll train you as a stage manager. We might even try giving you an act, if you have a talent we discover along the way. Tonight we’re rolling out of Rosohna though, so it won’t be the best night to get settled.” The man smiled at him in a rather… predatory way. Not the predatory of a lion on the hunt, but of an owl looking down at you from a cedar branch. “Trial period only.”

“Thank you.” Essek smiled a little back, despite the nearby owl.

“You can call me The Gentleman by the way, and this is The Ruby of the Sea. Our daughter Jester will be here in a moment, and she’ll be glad to show you around.”

Essek nodded, confused and a little overwhelmed by all the information being imparted to him. They were hiring him on a trial period. He would teach another wizard magic. He would become a stage manager, whatever that was. Maybe perform an act? And they had names, or pseudonyms. And they had a daughter together? It was a little much all at once. God, this whole day was too much. He took a sip of his now cold wine and tried to calm his nerves. They were leaving Rosohna soon, he’d be away from the Bright Queen and the Captain Quana and the Aurora Watch, he’d be safer.

He closed his eyes, and for a moment, he felt a little better.

Then the door burst open and in ran the blue tiefling who’d been taming moorbounders during the show. She’d replaced her previous sturdier outfit with a long black dress accented with red on the bodice and the hem and the little sleeves, fluffy white petticoats spilling out from underneath, her hair pulled up in a shower of tight curls pinned down with long, apple colored feathers. Her eyes glinted with a dangerous mischief that was only matched by the wide smile on her face.

“Mama! Dad! You won’t believe how awesome we did tonight it was absolutely crazy.” The woman skipped in, dashing behind the desk and giving what Essek assumed to be her parents a kiss on their cheek. “I kicked a shoe into the guy who was super rude to Caduceus’s face! Don’t worry, it looked like an accident.” She lifted up one of her stocking feet to clearly demonstrate the absence of a shoe.

“Jester, oh it’s lovely to see you my little Sapphire.” The Ruby smiled and hugged her daughter. “I’m glad you did well and had fun.”

The Gentleman laughed and patted her shoulder. “Very good my dear, so long as it looked like an accident. Hell, it doesn’t matter, we’re leaving tonight! Speaking of, this is Essek, our newest probationary member. Essek, this is our lovely daughter Jester.”

“Hi Essek! I’m Jester! But duh, you already know that. It’s good to meet you!” She jumped over the desk to Essek’s chair and stuck her arms out for a hug, her accented voice charged with the same mischief and delight that had been written on her face.  
Essek’s brain short circuited a little, staring at the tiefling’s open arms. He hadn’t hugged anyone in… god, a very long time. He didn’t particularly want to. But there was something about her unabashed enthusiasm that made him lean in ever so slightly, where she wrapped her arms around him in a surprisingly strong hug that lasted just a little too long.

“I uh, I saw you do the moorbounder show. It was very good.” Essek tried. Jester bounced up and down on her toes and nodded, skirts swishing and flouncing around her.

“Oh my gosh thank you! Yarnball and Jannik did soooo good tonight! Clarabelle was a little grumpy tonight but she still did great! I almost put Sprinkle and Nugget in tonight, but that felt like a little much with how skittish Calrabelle was. Anyways, it’s time for the tour. Follow me!” She grabbed his hand and started pulling him back out the door.

Essek nodded, still somewhat disoriented, and let himself be dragged into his new life, crushed paper cup of cold mulled wine abandoned on the arm of the chair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooo boy, I actually had time to write the second chapter! Yay! Google translate was used and probably will be used again, you have been warned.


	3. A fellow in kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Essek meets a very firey wizard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got to the first meeting! Writing for them is hard, but fun! Hope you enjoy!

Essek felt like a balloon on a string being tugged along by an impetuous child as Jester dragged him through the backstage of the circus. Dressing rooms, sitting rooms, gyms, kitchens, bedrooms, bathrooms, and a million other alcoves blurred together in a series of unreal colors and glittering shapes, all narrated by Jester’s chipper voice.

And Jester’s particular brand of narration was an interesting one indeed. A veritable wall of conversation passed around him and through him, pressing down like waves of gravity, fast as light and sharp as a knife’s edge. Her litany of words jumped from one topic to another, giving him little tidbits about the circus and almost explaining something before a new idea popped into her head and she was off again, leaving Essek in the dust. 

Though, he had to give her credit, despite her rather crude descriptions she seemed to be insanely knowledgeable about the circus. Born and bred in its gauzy folds, with intimate knowledge of every member, apparently capable of replacing almost any other performer on short notice, it seemed that if she wasn’t so scattered about what she chose to impart to Essek she’d make a wonderful tour guide indeed. And she was at least a little charming in her enthusiasm. 

He did gain some good information, in between the uncomfortable questions, unusual fun facts, and dick jokes. The circus was a touring circus known for being very mysterious and eclectic, and while most of the acts themselves weren’t magic, magic did supplement a lot of how the circus ran, and they only had the one wizard to rely on. Apparently a stage manager made people get to where they needed to go on time with the correct props and costumes, or something like that. Those were in fact her parents, and yes they did own and run the circus. No, he couldn’t see the whole circus yet since it was still open. Yes, she did do the dick paintings. 

It was all very tiring, and by the time Jester had finished giving him a tour that was either the abridged or expanded version, and he couldn’t tell you which, his legs hurt an embarrassing amount and he desperately wanted another drink and a nice trance and maybe some time to think. Bust apparently that wasn’t on the menu yet.

“Ok, so. Our wizard Caleb’s almost done with his show so you can talk to him about magic in just a sec! This is his and Beau’s dressing room so he’ll be here in like, real soon.” She clapped excitedly as she pushed him through a haphazardly hung door painted with what looked like a lot of flaming grapes. 

“Your wizard… performs?” This was not very comforting to Essek. Every wizard he’d ever known had been far too dignified to dream of performing in a circus, and all he could imagine now was a man who’d picked up one abjuration primer and cast a single instance of glowing lights, and now considered himself an expert. Though there had been those books in the sitting room, which he had to admit only the stuffily academic would ever really read. Maybe they were just set dressing, or maybe this wizard was simply a very unique one. 

“Oh yeah, duh. He’s great.” Jester shoved him down into a chair, which his knees and legs were grateful for. 

The room he had entered was strange, though probably not especially so for this circus. It was a dressing room, probably, he couldn’t really tell the difference at this point. It was dressed in warm ambers and cobalt blues, bottles and discarded pieces of clothing lining the countertops, mirrors of all shapes and sizes hung at odd angles, refracting the glowing orbs of light held in little glass cases. 

The clutter in there was not regulated, per say, but it had the sort of pattern to it people like Professor Waccoh kept their rooms in. There were several books in the spindly stacks he had come to know. A lot of books, in fact. The more he looked the more books he saw, notebooks under a rolled up excessive mat, overlarge historical tomes squirreled away under chairs, persnickety, academic looking texts with those weird heads they kept wigs on balanced on top. The whole place looked like someone had shunted a library into a theatre and hadn’t bothered to fix the error. 

He felt rather uncomfortable sitting in a strangers dressing room. He didn’t have a come plate understanding of what a dressing room actually was, but he knew that if someone hung around in the room he dressed in he’d be furious.

Jester made herself at home on the other hand, grabbing another chair up and swiping the shirt flung on it off with her tail before collapsing in it in a puff of skirts, pulling a pencil out from   
a pocket and doodling on the inner cover of a nearby book, which made Essek cringe.

“I do not think whoever owns that book would appreciate that.” He tried.

“Oh they totally do, it’s super funny and they love it.” She finished off whatever obscene thing she was drawing with a flourishing and closed the book, sliding onto the countertop. Essek bit his lip to hide his dismay. Maybe circus people just didn’t respect books like he did. It certainly wasn’t helping the case for this Caleb fellow being a good wizard. Though maybe he should try to ask.

“So Jester, what does Caleb do for you all?” He tried. Blatantly asking if he was any good seemed a little too much. 

“Ohmigosh he does soooo much. His spells are pretty cool. He can do this one where he makes his cat appear, it’s so cool. I don’t understand it though, it’s wizard shit.” She shrugged. That didn’t really give him any more faith, as find familiar was a rather simple spell. “I don’t know wizard shit, I don’t need funny books to do my magic.”

“You do magic?” This was very surprising, though perhaps it shouldn’t have been. 

“Yep! I’m a cleric to The Traveller!” She pulled a necklace out of the top of her dress, showing some sort of odd door or archway, a holy symbol Essek did not recognize. “Mh.” Was all he said.

“Have you heard of the Traveller Essek?” She looked at him excitedly, a near manic gleam in her violet eyes. It made him uncomfortable how close in color they were to his own, it felt a little like looking in a mirror that showed what his eyes would look like if he spent a few years in this ungodly place. He didn’t want to spend years here. He didn’t want to become like that. 

“I cannot say I have.” Essek tried to smother his grimace with little success. His facial expressions did not deter her though, because she had just opened her mouth for what could only have been a long winded religious speel, something Essek dearly detested, when his savior in monochrome swept in. 

“Ok Jess, I’m sure whoever this is doesn’t need to hear about the Traveller.” The human acrobat from the show had appeared behind Jester with near silence and slapped a hand on top of Jester’s shoulder, muscled arms glistening with sweat and little flecks of red paint, her dark hair slipping out of its knot and her face in a half wolffish, half appreciative smile.   
“Who is this by the way, and why the fuck is he in our dressing room?”

“This is Essek! Mama and dad just hired him, he’s supposed to teach Caleb about magic stuff and stage manage.” Jester smiled excitedly, for a moment lifting those manic eyes to the acrobat’s face before returning her gaze to him. “Are you sure you don’t want to hear about the Traveller?”

“Yes.” Essek said stiffly, feeling a wave relief at not having to hear a religious pitch wash over him. But the wave receded as he noted how harshly suspicious the acrobat's gaze was.

“What the fuck does Caleb need to learn, he’s already good. Sup Essek, I’m Beau.” She complimented the last part of her phrase with what could only be described as a “sup” nod, and Essek returned a nod much more befitted for greeting someone in court you didn’t particularly like but had to be cordial with.

“And I’m Caleb Widogast.” 

Essek whipped his head around towards the voice and felt his stomach drop out of his body. Standing in the doorway was the fire man, tall and lean, skin glistening slightly with sweat, and smelling of fire and ozone. His coppery hair was falling out of his ponytail ever so slightly, and his features still retained a masculine, dramatic set when not bathed in fire and shadow. Fuck. He was still extremely attractive. And he was Caleb, the wizard? Fuck again. 

“And I was also wondering what this Mr. Essek is here to teach me too.” He had a soft, light voice, with some sort of empire accent hanging off of it, turning the words reserved and intense. 

Essek gulped, trying to keep his face as impenetrable as ever. He was loosing what little control he had over the situation, and all because this fucking wizard was hot. He did not get flustered by attractive people like this! He flustered people with his attractiveness! God, he wanted his wine back. 

“I am extremely knowledgeable in dunamancy, an expert one might even say, and I was told you’d be interested in its practices.” Essek said slowly, keeping his voice cold and measured, his face unfathomable and icy. Caleb on the other had lit up like a lantern, face breaking into an eager grin and eyes lighting like the flames he spun so expertly on stage. 

“Really? I’ve only ever heard rumors about it you know, in books, but I’ve never had the chance to get anywhere near it. I was actually reading this book just today about crossing principles of Divination and Transmutation, but I was thinking that maybe divinatory theory crossed more with dumantaic theory? But I didn’t know.”   
He walked over quickly, pulling out a chair and sitting in it, voice never stopping. His shirt still reflected the amber light of the room, making all the individual movements of his arm muscles and bends of his joints stand out in sharp relief. Not only was he extremely attractive, but he clearly had some sort of skill as a wizard. It was entrancing.

“Yes, actually, they do cross paths in some ways, especially the portions of dunamancy related to time and fate, but divination is far more about the concept of seeing and knowing, whereas dunamancy is about manipulating these very concepts. Bending the fabric of reality to your will.” Essek felt his own face light a little at the discussion of magic, his eyes locking with Caleb’s. They were a lovely, colored in an inquisitive shade of blue, with depths so deep and dark they scared Essek, like the unfathomable bottom of the Lucidian. There was also a hunger he recognized. A sadness he didn’t. A flame that lit them from the inside out. Truly wonderful eyes.

“Really? Oh that is absolutely fascinating. I uh, personally have most of my expertise in Transmutation, though I do know a little in the field of Evocation. I’ve found a lot of interesting ways to utilize transmutation for the circus, though not anything… revolutionary, so to speak. Just expansions on already present concepts. But dunamancy, that could take us to a whole new level.” His voice dropped with reverence.

“Well I don’t know what sorts of spells you use, but dunamancy can be applied in many fascinating ways. I can imagine graviturgy would be especially useful in certain acrobatic acts, and the bending of probability and fortune would most certainly help you in your carnival games.”

Caleb laughed a very pleasing, quiet laugh. “That it would, I’m sure. But there is so much more one can do with dunamancy than just… circus tricks. But I’m sure you of all people know that.” He grinned.

“Oh course.” Essek smiled back, trying for a refined, polite smile, but he was sure it didn’t completely mask his deep excitement.

“Fucking nerds.” Beau snorted, adjusting the blue top she’d exchanged her white one for. Though evidently, no matter the shirt, her rather impressive abs were always on display. 

“You are one to talk, Beauregard. You’re the one who goes with me to every single library we pass on this godforsaken continent.” Caleb chuckled, turning his face to Beau and making Essek feel blurred, like the intensity of his gaze had smudged something in him while departing his own eyes. 

“Yeah, so? You’re still fucking nerds.” Beau’s own eyes crinkled with mirth. She also had blue eyes, but these were much harder. Where Caleb’s eyes were molten, blue hot glass still twisting and turning, hers were hard and sharp and finished, already blown into their final, rock hard form. Like ice that showed no sign of cracking.

“Yeah you guys are pretty nerdy.” Jester chuckled. “I need to go check on Clarabelle, do you want to come with me Essek?” 

Essek was about to say no, of course not, he wanted to sit and talk about magical theory with Caleb, but the man was beginning to take down his hair and wipe the sweat off his face, clearly getting out of circus attire. And Essek knew if he started changing clothes he’d been done for. 

“Sure. Goodbye, Mr. Widogast, I am excited to work with you in the future.” He nodded at Caleb. Caleb nodded back. “You too Mr….” it was an open question. Damn it.

“Essek, just Essek.” He tried to sound cool and mysterious.

“Ah. Well I look forward to our future work together, Mr. Essek.”

“Oooh, you’re so mysterious Essek.” Jester chuckled, looping her arm through his and beginning to drag him out the door. “Caleb does some crazy stuff, just wait till roll out.” 

Essek nodded, not paying attention to much of what she said as they left.

So, that was his two biggest questions answered in one. Who was the wizard, and who was the fire man? Both were Caleb Widogast. It was… he wasn’t sure what it was. It was exhilarating, his mere presence, but at the same time he was beginning to find it.. uncomfortable. He was an attractive wizard, cool, and clearly very hungry for knowledge. So much like himself. So someone he should never trust. And a carnie at that. What sort of talented, attractive wizard ever became a carnie? He clearly had some amount of proper schooling, even from the short conversation they’d had, but he was clearly not the sort to be proper, clearly. 

Then again, knowledge and interest in arcane theory didn’t necessarily denote talent in actual spell casting. He’d known plenty of people in his school days who’d lecture you for hours on alternate timeline degradation and echo mechanics, but would fall short at the first cast of fortune’s favor. And a first level spell or two and a few simple cantrips combined with a flare for the dramatic were usually enough to impress people who didn’t know much about magic into thinking you were actually quite good. And he was then only wizard at the circus, so he’d probably be able to fool them.  
It was all a bit of a conundrum. Oh well, Jester had implied this Mr. Widogast would produce something very exciting for “roll out”, so he supposed he’d just have to wait and see. 

Until then, all he had to do was not think too much about how nice coppery red hair looked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter chapter, but I wanted to get it out since it was the first meeting.


	4. Leaving to the next entrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Essek is a dumb man drama Queen.

Essek had found himself a place to sit and watch the circus unfolds in front of him. Or rather, refold.  
The circus had closed, the last patrons shooed out of the gate, the music stopped except for a few fiddlers and guitarists playing a rocus drinking song, the food vendors doused fires and started dragging large pots out from behind their stalls, circus members cinched tent flaps open and rolled wagons out of gods know where, the lighting turned from dim and mysterious to bright and cheerful, and everyone walked around talking, moving things, stretching, eating, laughing, all in various stages of costume and dress. It was honestly more of the rowdy circus he’d envisioned closed than it was open.

He’d mostly managed to stay, while not necessarily hidden, out of the way at least. Jester had spent the last hour or so getting her moorbounders ready for travel, and while Essek had not appreciated it at the time, the caravan they were now attached to gave him the perfect place to sit and watch. It appeared as if even circus folk didn’t have much fondness for continuous contact with the beasts. He didn’t much like it either, but being mauled to death by a moorbounder seemed more preferable than social interaction currently, so he’d take it.

Colors lulled and flicked as people began dragging wagons out of the backstage, pulling out carpet bags and taking down smaller pieces of tents, throwing circus equipment more reminiscent of tools from the dungeon of penance than any sort of exercise device into cart beds. It was like watching some beautiful spell suddenly release, swirls of arcane energy fizzling out until there was nothing but the smell of magic. 

There was something odd about how they disassembled, though. Essek was the least knowledgeable person about circuses in the circus he was sure, and despite his general learnedness he knew he was sorely lacking in this department. Yes, his knowledge of performance and jest was practically zero, but he was sure, very sure indeed, that in order to move a circus you need to take apart the whole thing. And yet it seemed more like they were only taking little pieces, bits and bobs, like they were packing for a short trip to the countryside instead of moving house, no bothering to take down a single tent or move any of the big pieces.

He squinted through the crowd for someone he knew, his eyes catching on Jester, who was lifting an ungodly amount of luggage with one hand and looping the other through the arm of the strong woman, dragging her along. He could ask her why, but… no, he couldn’t bare seeming any more stupid than he already must. And besides, he couldn’t handle Jester right now. Her unabated enthusiasm would be the death of him. 

Unfortunately, someone up there seemed to want him dead, since it seemed Jester was angling her trajectory towards Essek. Well, he was sitting on her caravan, he realized. He shouldn’t have done that. Fuck.

“Essek! Hi!” She called as she skipped up next to him. She’d added a forest green traveling shawl over her dress pinned closed with some sort of an archway shaped broach, and her curls falling out of their neat gathering in messy, blueberry loops. 

The strongwomen next to her looked at Essek in a way he could only describe as awkwardly intimidating, her large frame towering over his own but her face showing nothing but calm shyness, her long white hair blowing unpinned in the wind. She didn’t look very empiric, he noted, not that Jester or the Ruby and the Gentleman did either. In fact, out of all the people he’d really met, he’d only really place Beauregard and Caleb as true Empire denizens if he had to bet money.

“Hello Jester.” He sighed.

“It’s so good to see you, but you should talk to more people, they all want to meet you. Oh my gosh, you haven’t met Yasha yet have you? This is Yasha, she’s super cool. Oh, she’s from Xhorhas too! Maybe you guys have stuff in common.” Jester threw her armloads of luggage into the back as she chatted.

“Oh, probably not. I’m from the south, it’s… very different.” She had a quiet voice, accents hidden underneath a small, personal silence. 

“Yes, Northern Xhorhas and Southern are markedly different, I didn’t even know people left the tribes down there. But I’m sure she’s… charming.” Essek didn’t attempt to keep the slight disinterest out of his voice this time. Maybe if he was rude enough she’d leave. Though he doubted it, she was a veritable plow horse of energy, charging through any social defenses to ask you a wildly inappropriate question with ease.

“Yeah, people usually don’t. Leave, I mean.” She gave a half hearted shrug. Yasha didn’t seem to mind his clear rudeness either, or didn’t notice.

“She is super duper charming!” Jester nodded excitedly, her already unruly hair flopping even further out from under the feather they’d been pinned by. “Speaking of charming, you really really should get to know people more, Essek! You’ll be spending a lot of time with them and they really do want to meet you.”

“Ah, no. Not tonight. I am tired.” Essek tried. And he was. Elves didn’t really need to sleep, but by gods did he long for it tonight, dreams and all. This day had been endless, starting with a pit of dread in his stomach which was pulled and tightened throughout the day till it snapped in a burst of color that settled into a job at the circus. He was overwhelmed, probably not thinking straight, and desperately wished to escape it all.

“Well you can’t sleep yet silly, you still haven’t seen roll out! You can’t miss that.” Yasha nodded in agreement with Jester’s energetic statment. 

“How do you, uh, roll out? Without disassembling it? Which you appear not to be doing?” He ventured, watching Jester’s eyes widen with delight and mischief. 

“Oh, you’ll see.” She waggled her eyebrows in a way that was altogether too suggestive for his tastes. “I’m gonna go keep packing up, Yasha will keep you company!” 

Essek was about to argue that he needed no company, but she’d already skipped off, presumably to retrieve more luggage. For her part, Yasha simply gave him an awkward sort of shrug and then went about arranging Jester’s hastily thrown trunks and bags into neat configurations in the back of the caravan, silent as you pleased. That was a relief at least.

It took around half an hour for everyone to pull their things into carts and drag them out of the circus, which was still surprisingly intact. The main three tents sat like great mountains, surrounded by the little foothills of smaller tents and the wall around the circus forming the carved valley in which they sat. People stood around talking and chatting, lacing up riding boots or adjusting the reins on mounts, but no one moving to take apart the tents or remove any of the greater contents within.

And then Caleb Widogast emerged. He’d exchanged the reflective performance costume for a long brown coat and woolen sweater, his hair in a much simpler ponytail down his back. In one hand he held a basket who’s contents was rather obscured, and in the other a worn looking book. It all gave a rather homely vibe, like that of a wizard leaving his tower to run to the market, sweet as could. Essek shook his head to banish those thoughts, and instead concentrated on what he was doing. 

Caleb was walking around the wall of the circus, stopping to lay something from the basket on the ground every so often, muttering as he did. He appeared to be casting something. He looked very charming, absorbed in a spell. Essek shook his head again, mentally cursing himself. This man was not so attractive as to consume his every thought when looking at him! He had far more sense than this, much more dignity.

“Oh my gosh this part is so exciting, just watch!” Jester had skipped up to him once again, hair now completely free from its confines and the feather that had been perched on top of it was now dangling wildly from a single curl. “It’s wizard shit, you’ll love it.”

Essek frowned, her voice barely registering to him, already focusing in on the proceedings, pushing aside thoughts of Caleb’s aesthetic value. He didn’t recognize the spell in question, it was probably transmutation based, but several of the somatic movements were unfamiliar. He was too far away to catch the verbal and moving farther as he went, appearing to be charting the entire circumference of the circus. It was odd, but Essek was completely entranced.

Jester continued to talk as Caleb disappeared, but Essek didn’t pay her much mind. He was trying to determine what the spell was, but he simply couldn’t. He’d need to get close to do so, but to do that he’d need to move through the crowd of people, and he simply wasn’t up for something like that. He resigned himself to waiting until the fellow wizard came back into view, and rubbed his eyes for just the briefest of moments, fingers feeling achingly cold and shaky as he did.

But Essek was back to watching closely as Caleb emerged from where he’d disappeared behind the circus, and noticed that as he came closer to where he started the entire crowd of people had stopped their conversations to watch. Caleb finished his rounds, gesturing and muttering all the way, stopping at where he’d started and placing one last object from the basket on the ground, before stepping back. He was saying something, and doing one last motion Essek didn’t quite recognize, and suddenly there was an odd movement on the ground and with a flash of amber light the circus was gone. 

Essek gasped as a smattering of clapping and whoops rose around him. The entire circus was gone, tent, walls, all of it, leaving nothing but the smell of arcana and whatever components Caleb was picking up off the ground and a black void of space where magic had once been performed. What had he done? Where had it gone? It didn’t look like teleportation, maybe some sort of transmutation? He didn’t know, but he had to find out.

Jester was waving the wizard over, and after a slightly self conscious bow to the cheering crowd and a few words exchanged with the halfling acrobat who was approaching him, Caleb walked to her beckoning hand, coat tails flapping behind him like twisting tongues of deep brown flame.

“Great job Cayleb!” Jester ran over and gave him a hug, and he chuckled and patted her head as she did. “Thank you as always, Jester.”

“You should tell Essek how you did it, y’know, wizard to wizard.” She smiled, giving him a pat on the shoulder and a slight shove.

Caleb looked up at Essek perched on the cart and smiled. Essek felt like a little part of his insides melted as he did, it was a very nice, warm smile, amplifying the friendly lines in his face and making his eyes crinkle wonderfully. He could truly fall down those eyes like a child would fall down a well in a fairytale. What might he find there? Would he ever come out?

“That was indeed impressive, what spell was that?” Essek attempted to sound the moderate, appropriate amount of impressed of a man who hadn’t just been daydreaming about his eyes like a love struck maiden. 

“Oh, it’s ah, one of my own creation. I made a spell a while ago, Widogast’s vault of amber, and I decided to modify it for this very specific purpose. It took a while, the mass equations where absolute hell but I can show you my notes..” he began fumbling around in the book in his hand, eyes alight with the passion of a true scholar, setting down his willow basket which Essek could now see was filled with large pieces of amber by his feet as he did.

“Here. They all aren’t in common, but I’m sure you can catch my meaning.” Caleb jumped up next to him and sat down, which made Essek’s spine size up, and proffered his book. Essek looked at the given page, and his breath was taken away. 

It probably wouldn’t be impressive to most, the little lines of hurried text with their mismatched language, scribbled out sentences and blocks of equations, the little drawings and cross referenced notes, but to him there was no work of art more beautiful.

The way the lines flowed together, the leaps of reasoning and thought processes detailed in a tiny cramped hand, the brilliant use of component theory that he’d only expect from a thesis at the conservatory, the building blocks of spellcraft being expanded on and reworked in ways he could never think of, the combination of clear understanding of traditional spell work with some truly out of the box thinking and unusual ideas. He was looking at the work of a genius. 

“This is extremely interesting Mr. Widogast.” Essek breathed, fingers dancing over the page, stopping just slightly over the dog ears and creases in it, gently touching the words with soft fingers so as not to ruin them. “And it’s intersections with the spatial and gravitational aspects of dunamancy are fascinating. How did you come up with the original spell?”

“Ah, well, let me show you.” 

Essek felt time slip around him unnoticed for once, as he delved into Caleb’s fascinating spell work. It was wonderful, watching the man explain his craft with a deep intensity, so wonderful he hardly noticed the cart begin to move off into the night. Listening to him delve into his ideas, stumbling a little around the common words but explaining them with such passion he almost didn’t need words to convey his thoughts was wonderful. 

And soon Essek found himself just as passionate, just as engrossed, his mind filled with the wonders of academia in a way he hadn’t been in too long. It was amazing to talk to Caleb, someone with the same passion and aptitude for magic, he felt motivated and compelled by him, not weighed down or jealous as usually did. The man had a keen mind and an out of the box thinking style that melded perfectly with Essek’s vast array of knowledge and sharp wit, and his slight falters around certain aspects of more complicated academic knowledge he easily made up for with creativity.

It wasn’t until they’d finished looking at Caleb’s own work and began discussing the theorized differences between Moleasmyrian vs Aeorian spellcraft that realization dawned, working its way through the euphoria of knowledge and Essek’s own tiredness.

This man was no fool. This man was a genius. A wonderfully smart, clearly classically trained empire wizard genius. And he knew just as well as any other arcanist where genius wizards went in the empire. This man was no fool. This man was truly dangerous. 

Not least because of the wonderful way his smile lit up his face like a warm oil lamp, and the way his shoulders and back cut a very sharp, sturdy frame under the book holsters he’d revealed after taking off his coat. Not muscular like the strong woman Yasha, but slim and dramatic and very handsome, body defined well by the way the funny little book straps sat on him. Like the way they put lines across a body in medical diagrams to show where muscles went, he mused sleepily.

And oh was he sleepy. He hadn’t realized it till now, maybe because he almost never felt tired, but his eyes were dropping and he was just about off to dreamland, his mind fuzzy and yet stretched like hides to tan, his head wanting to lul to the side and find purchase for him to sleep

“Oh, Mr. Essek, you look exhausted. Ah, right, I should probably get going back to my own cart. But this was… it was wonderful. Enlightening.” Caleb seemed almost flustered for a moment, awkwardness spilling into his voice, but the deep intensity he had in study seeped back in as he said the words wonderful and enlightening. 

Even in his haze Essek wouldn’t dream of letting himself lose any composure he could hold onto while working at a circus, so he said “It was indeed very interesting study Mr. Widogast, I look forward to future study and wish you a good evening.” With great grace and intellect, and only collapsed straight down onto the cart in a heap of exhaustion after he was out of sight.

Essek felt like shit as he awoke. He hadn’t had to wake up in a very long time, and it wasn’t fun. How could other species do this every day, this awful groggy, stiff, disgusting routine of waking up. And the worst part was the memories. There was a brief moment when all there was was warm blanket and the remnants of sleep, a soft, good feeling, and then suddenly they came flooding back, all that had happened the other day.

Blankets. That was new. He certainly hadn’t fallen asleep with those. Blinking the crustiness out of his eyes that couldn’t be normal, he found himself looking at the inside of a very brightly colored caravan. The walls were covered in various drawings and the wood had its own murals painted on it, all beautifully done but many rather… vulgar. So it was the inside of Jester’s caravan. He’d fallen asleep on the outside, so someone would have had to carry him in. How embarrassing.

He looked around further, noting the piles of trunks and bags and general amount of stuff, the cluttered, bright air of the structure making him feel uneasy. He’d never liked waking up in unfamiliar spaces, especially ones that were moving up and down along a bumpy road. 

It wasn’t all bad. The memories of last night's study session hung around him like the blanket’s he’d just thrown off, warm and comforting and heavy. Too warm. Too heavy. It was probably just paranoia, but the assembly felt like a constant shadow at his back, and now here was the mind of his dreams attached to the handsomest wizard he’d seen in ages, so ready to share his precious knowledge, so empirical, so well trained. It made his stomach flip flop so full of emotions he’d need no breakfast. 

Oh well, he’d have to handle the situation to the best of his ability. And handling it started with handling himself. It took mere moments for Essek to find a mirror in the clutter, it’s gaudy gold frame popping amongst the blues and pinks of the pile of petticoats it had been laid in. 

He set to work combining his fingers through his spidersilk hair, adjusting dark, rumpled clothes, rubbing sleep from his eyes, untangling the silver earrings and cuffs he wore, and cleaning dirt from under his manicured nails. He was used to his home where he’d had everything he needed to look presentable, and hours to make himself so, but this would suffice..

His home. His towers. The tools of his craft he’d spent years building up there, hours of meticulous planning to make the perfect respite for study. It was all gone, and it was with a pang that he felt it’s loss, making his head hurt and his eyes screw shut. How could he lose all that be given a jostling, cluttered caravan that smelled of old bakery as replacement? Maybe the Luxon was real, and wanted him to pay for his sins.

“Hey Essek, you ok?” Essek shot up from where he was bent over the mirror to see Jester peeking her head in the caravan. Her hair was in curl papers and she was wearing an audaciously bright pink dress, eyes round like tiny lilacs, looking to all the world like a little girl’s doll that had just become sentient. 

“Ah yes, Jester, I am fine, thank you. Just waking up. What time is it?”

“It’s like noon, you slept really late. But don’t worry, we don’t care, you really needed it!” She slithered in, dress puffing out around her, and plopped down next to Essek. 

“Did I, uh, take your caravan for the evening? If I did I’m terribly sorry.” He was, mostly for the awkwardness of it all.

“Oh no no no don’t worry Essek, I slept in mama and papa’s, I do that all the time.” She shook her head, papered ringlets bouncing. But her demeanor soon chnaged, eyes flashing mischievously. “You were talking a lot with Cayleb last night. Are you gonna teach him some fancy spells?”

“Maybe.” Essek grimaced. 

“Because he’d be so disappointed if you didn’t, he’s so into magic, and you don’t wanna disappoint him do you?” Her eyes widened like a puppy dog’s, pouting like Verin did when he was a young boy, before he knew better. 

“I don’t particularly care who I disappoint.” Essek gave her a somewhat patronizing look, one he’d practiced often, but inside he churned like a gravitational spell was being started in his guts. He did care, damn it all.

“I bet you dooo!” She sing-songed, wiggling her eyebrows and grinning like she was so prone to do, pout suddenly vanishing into an unfortunately suggestive expression. Her emotiveness seemed to be as flexible and easy to change as the mood of the moorbounders she kept. “Anwyas, it doesn’t matter, you have stage manager training on the double!”

“Oh. Right.” Essek sighed deeply. His job. He’d forgotten about that.

“Come on, follow me, I’ll get you some breakfast and then you can meet the person who’s training you!” She waved her hand at him, and he peeked out the doors she’d come through and cringed. It was a sunny day, beams of light cutting across the grey ground like they’d been painted a different color by an artist's brush. He hadn’t seen sunlight in gods knew how long, and it looked strange, the scenery becoming abnormally bright and making his eyes water.

“What’s wrong Essek?” Jester asked, genuine concern in her voice.

“The sunlight, it doesn’t really agree with drows.” 

“Oh no, that’s terrible! Wait wait wait, I have an idea! Give me just a moment.” She jumped to her feet and began rummaging through her things, a bit like a gopher digging itself a hole. It took some banging around, but she soon emerged holding a bright pink parasol and a pair of tinted, oddly shaped glasses. “Here! For the sun!”

Essek groaned, slumping his head into his own hands. How much more embarrassed could he get? How degrading, to see the former shadowhand walking around holding a parasol in sunglasses. Sunglasses! Shaped like hearts!!? He would be the laughing stalk of this place, he’d fallen so far in just a few days, he couldn’t believe it.

He reached out a very reluctant hand. “Give them here.”

It was going to be a very long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes i am fucking around with how dnd magic works. Do I care? Not in the slightest.

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe I’ll continue this, maybe not, but I love the circus and so here it is lol.


End file.
